


The Edge of the Knife

by firesign10



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Sex, Demon Dean, Knifeplay, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Demon!Dean face off in the halls of the bunker. Conflict flashes into sex, and Sam tries to remind Dean of his humanity and his love for Sam. Set in Season 10, ep. 3 “Soul Survivor”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge of the Knife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dolavine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/gifts).



> Written as an auction fill for [](http://dolnmoon.livejournal.com/profile)[dolnmoon](http://dolnmoon.livejournal.com/). Her prompt: Sam still loves Demon!Dean; he's trying to cure him, then tries to save him with love...
> 
> Thanks to [theatregirl7299](theatregirl7299.livejournal.com) for the beta!

“Come on, Sammy! Let’s have a beer, talk about it. I’m tired of playing. Let’s finish this game!”

Dean's mocking voice echoed through the bunker's tile walls. Sam breathed hard, backed up against the wall, poised to move. He chanced a look down the hall, but saw it was empty. He turned back around and ducked just in time to avoid the hammer Dean swung at his head, gasping as it slammed into the wall. Without even thinking about it, Sam found himself pushing his knife against Dean’s throat.

Dean smiled, eyes regarding Sam almost lazily. “Well, look at you,” he said softly. His jaw firmed as he brought his head down to rest on the blade, gaze sharpening. “Do it. It's all you.”

Sam was transfixed. Dean's vibrant green eyes stared boldly at him, daring him. The soft skin of Dean's throat pressed against Ruby's knife. His mouth was slightly open, tongue just teasingly visible. His stance seemed relaxed, yet ready to pounce; a look Sam knew well from a lifetime of sparring together--a mix of insouciance and danger. A look he'd always found hot as hell.

He struggled internally—he didn't want to kill his brother, even the demon version. He wanted to save Dean. And maybe...maybe reminding Dean of everything they shared would help pull him back from the darkness. Maybe he'd be able to reach Dean via sex—always their manifestation of the bond between them.

The knife clattered loudly as it fell to the floor. Sam's hands cradled Dean's face, holding him close while Sam kissed him. Sam tried to put all his love for his brother, his lover, into a passionate sharing of lips and tongue, silently offering everything he could in that exchange.

Dean jerked his head back, his face showing surprise that he quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. “Oh yeah, it's like that, Sammy? You wanna taste the dark roast? Okay, we'll play, but you better hang on!”

And with that Dean kissed him, but his kiss was brutal—lips mashed, teeth scraping, tongue invading Sam's mouth. This was no sharing but a plundering, an invasion; this was Dean leaving no doubt about who was in control. Momentarily taken aback by the aggression of Dean's kiss, Sam simply submitted. He felt hopeful that Dean took the choice Sam had offered. 

Dean shoved Sam against the wall and drove his thigh between Sam's legs, pinning him further with one arm across Sam's collarbone. Dean's free hand grabbed Sam's collar and ripped his shirt wide, buttons raining down to the floor in tiny clinks. He was shocked by Dean pushing him around that hard, but he spread his hands wide to show he wasn't resisting. Even when Dean drew his switchblade, Sam held himself still. His goal was to show Dean a gentler, deeper love, _Sam's_ love, thus help Dean resist the dark draw of evil. If it meant losing some clothes or enduring some rough sex at first, well, Sam was a big boy. He could handle it.

Catching the point of the knife beneath Sam's t-shirt, Dean cut upward, slicing it off and leaving the pieces hanging at Sam's sides. “Looking good, Sammy, putting some muscle back on there,” Dean leered, tracing around Sam's chest and down his abs with the tip of the knife. It wasn't enough pressure to draw blood, but the fine metal edge scraped against Sam's suddenly pebbled skin. He forced himself not to move, but couldn't hold back a small intake of breath.

“You like this? We never tried knife-play, did we? How does the edge feel? I could just trace your body like this, or maybe just a little...flick...” There was a sting as the blade drew a fine red line underneath one pec. Dean chuckled and bent to run his tongue on it, humming with pleasure as he licked along it. The sting of the cut warred with the soft, wet heat of Dean's tongue, and Sam shivered. His dick didn't seem to mind, perking up in his jeans, twitching when Dean moved his mouth up to Sam's nipple and began to suck it. 

“Dean,” he murmured, pleasure sparking from his nipple straight to his balls. “Dean...” He brought a hand to Dean's head, stroking the soft, short hair, thrilling to Dean's tongue flicking his nub and trying to ignore the knife still in Dean's hand.

Dean suddenly bit down, hard enough to make Sam yelp and his nipple sting. He hadn't caught his breath before Dean was biting his neck, sucking hard and then biting another spot, and another. Dean's free hand was busy pinching and twisting his nips, little jolts in addition to the vicious hickies Dean was administering. Sam knew he'd have dark bruises and bitemarks afterward, and he grimaced as Dean latched on the tender skin near Sam's armpit.

“Dean...dude, take it easy...I'm not a chew-toy,” he said, trying for a light-hearted tone. He didn't want to anger Dean, especially with the knife still in play. He kept stroking Dean's hair, hoping it would start soothing his brother. Dean loved having his head and hair rubbed. Sam scratched gently with his fingertips, and was rewarded with Dean ceasing the biting and kissing him instead.

It was still a rougher kiss than usual, but Sam worked to gentle it, keeping his response slow and easy to Dean's punishing mouth. Now he dared to put his hands on Dean's body, running them up and down his back, rubbing them around the back of his neck. Dean's thigh, firm and muscular beneath the worn denim, began working against Sam's crotch and his cock immediately hardened, prompting his hips to grind back. Rough or not, this was _Dean,_ and Sam was conditioned to arousal with Dean's mouth on his, Dean's hands on his body, Dean's smell in his nostrils.

They were both breathing harder when the kiss broke. “Strip,” ordered Dean, and Sam willingly obeyed. He'd have liked going to one of their rooms, but hey, he could deal with right here. His cock, hard and complaining in his jeans, certainly didn't care, and it bobbed eagerly as he kicked off his shoes and shed his clothes, including the tattered t-shirt. His newly-naked skin felt chilly in the hall, but Dean was naked just as quickly, clicking his knife shut and tossing it onto his pile of clothes. His body felt scorching as he wrapped himself around Sam.

“Turn around.” Dean's body was warm but his tone was still cold. Sam liked bottoming from either direction, but he wanted to be face-to-face now, wanted to keep Dean aware of them as lovers, brothers; to fan the flame of Dean's humanity.

“Wanna face you, wanna kiss--”

“Shut up and turn the fuck around!”

Sam barely had a chance to respond before he found himself whirled around, face pressed against the cool gray tile of the wall. Dean's chest crushed against his back, his erect dick already riding the crack of Sam's ass. Dean's hands kneaded Sam's cheeks, fingers squeezing his balls, roughly rubbing his hole. Aroused as Sam was, a haze of fear rushed over him. This Dean wasn't completely his Dean, and he didn't know where this Dean would draw the line.

“Dean—I'm not ready, need--”

Dean smacked Sam's ass hard. “Shut up!” He kneaded the stinging cheek and smacked it again a little more softly. “Not gonna fuck you dry. Sucks that way.” He chuckled coldly. “Besides, blood's a crappy lube. Just want to ride you, ride your sweet ass. Damn, you've got such a fine ass, Sammy. Just like Pamela said—you could bounce a fuckin' nickel off it.” He spanked the other cheek soundly, then spat on Sam's cleft and thrust his cock hard against it again and again, pausing to smear his pre-come on it and make it slicker.

The cool tile felt good against Sam's now-heated face. Despite his hesitancy about Dean's intentions, he couldn't deny how good Dean's cock felt against him, how his body was instinctively pushing back. His dick was aching, and he felt a fat bead of pre-come well up to drip onto the floor. Dean pulled back on Sam's hips, clutching them in a strong grip, and he kicked one of Sam's feet wider to rut in even closer. Sam moaned as Dean's balls bounced against his own when Dean pushed Sam's back lower with one heavy hand.

“Dean...” he gasped. “Uhhh...please, let me turn around...it'll feel even better with us together, okay?”

Dean grunted in apparent agreement, allowing Sam to turn back around. He pushed Sam back against the wall and kissed him fiercely, spreading his feet wide to step in close again. Sam worked to soften the kiss again, teasing Dean's nipples and sliding one hand down to cup his ass. Dean moaned, muscles softening. Sam hummed approvingly and kissed Dean's face, his neck, sucked gently on his earlobe, licked the shell of his ear with a delicate tongue.

“Sammy...it's nice...yeah...” said Dean huskily. Sam kissed his way back to Dean's lush mouth and now they meshed, Sam a little more passionately and Dean a little gentler. Their cocks rubbed and bumped together clumsily as they rutted against each other. Sam finally felt safer and more at ease; his muscles and mind both eased, and he gave himself over to the pleasure of making love with Dean.

“Yeah, Dean, yeah...just like this,” Sam whispered. He took hold of their cocks in one of his hands and began jerking them slowly but firmly, running his fingers over the heads to gather their pre-come. He felt Dean gradually slip into Sam's rhythm, their bodies rocking together, breath hitching. “Love you, Dean, always love you. Always be yours, just like you're mine...love you...” Sam whispered between kisses, one hand stroking them and the other wound into Dean's hair. “Love you...”

“Love you, Sammy...” Dean growled back. “Mine...”

Sam felt elated to hear love back in Dean's voice, a deep, rich undertone in his words. His body was moving in sync with Sam's now, their hips churning, hard dicks thrusting hotly together in Sam's hand. Sam felt his balls tightening, the pressure building inside, and he panted, “Dean, almost there—gonna come, Dean, fuck...” His head fell forward onto Dean's shoulder, and he avidly watching the fat, red heads of their cocks bulge in and out of his grasp as his orgasm approached. 

“Yeah, come for me, come on,” grunted Dean, bracing his hands on Sam's shoulders, eyes also glued to Sam's hand around their straining cocks. “Me too, me too, oh shit!” His hips lost their rhythm and bucked, his head falling back as he cried out.

They blew almost simultaneously, spewing white all over Sam's hand, their bellies, spatters on their chests. Sam's eyes squeezed shut, but not before he saw the bliss on Dean's face, and the split second where those green eyes stared at him with adoration.

_Yes! Dean!_

Then it was the aftershocks, the physical tremors that made them sink down onto the floor, weak pulses of come still dribbling from their dicks even as Sam released them. They collapsed together, limbs intertwined, slumped against each other's sweaty bodies. Sam welcomed his brother's weight, accepted it willingly, glad beyond measure it was Dean now and not the cold, callous demon-thing after all. 

“I'll take care of you, Dean,” he murmured into Dean's damp hair, clean hand idly trailing on Dean's back. “One more dose. I've got your back.” His eyes closed sleepily, although he knew they'd have to get up in a minute.

“Not to worry, dude,” Dean purred. “I'm five by five.”

Sam's eyed popped open. _That's not Dean, that's..._

Dean pushed Sam away from him and got up. He picked up Sam's ripped shirt and started leisurely wiping himself off. “Thanks, I needed to clean the pipes.” He threw the messy shirt down and started pulling on his jeans.

“But...are you feeling okay?” Sam's head fought off the dozy post-orgasm haze and focused. “I thought...”

Dean snarled, “You thought you'd sweet-talk me—and by 'sweet-talk' I mean 'fuck'--back to Deanly Do-right? Sorry, loverboy, you aren't man enough for that. Though you do remain a fine piece of ass and a great fuck.” He winked lasciviously at Sam, an expression that chilled him with its raw lust without love. “I'll be sure to find you next time I get an itch, and then I'll take you apart the way I'd planned.”

Sam could only gape. He'd thought...he'd been sure...

“Oh, stop with the kicked puppy look! We had a little fun, but I'm not going to fall for that sappy shit!” Dean's face hardened and his voice was harsh. “I'm a demon, Sam, and next time...” 

Sam's blood ran cold when he saw Dean's eyes flash completely black and his mouth twist in a feral snarl. He closed his eyes in horror at what his brother, despite Sam's effort, had still remained.

When he opened them, Dean was gone.  



End file.
